


Nailed It: Tony Stark’s Greatest Matchmake

by uglywombat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:08:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22155286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/pseuds/uglywombat
Summary: Tony Stark is the greatest matchmaker in the world. Everyone deserves love. Even the broken, murderous, goat-herding wannabe Bucky Barnes. He’s seen the chemistry, the passion, the destiny between you and Bucky, there’s no denying that. It’s just a shame you are at war.But Tony has a plan, and this one will work. Plus it’s Christmas, so what better time of the year to host “The Avengers Nailed It Competition”. Oh, there will be tears, triumphs, a meddling reporter and the worst snowstorm New York has ever seen.And possibly true love.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/You
Comments: 29
Kudos: 190





	Nailed It: Tony Stark’s Greatest Matchmake

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for @honeyhan-123 #honeyhan’sholidayspirit challenge. My prompt was “There’s a blizzard outside and I’m trapped, here, with you”. The Nailed It Photograph is from here I really hope you enjoyed this. It was A LOT of work.

Mission Disparu Bucky began in earnest two days, seven hours and thirty-three minutes ago, after he had failed to return home once the snowstorm had finally ceased its onslaught. 

As Sam trudged through the knee-deep, damp as fuck, freezing my balls off snow he cursed the very ground on which Bucky Barnes had ever walked upon, the air he breathed, and the spine-tingling woodsy cologne he wore. He didn’t care that Steve was concerned about his lost best friend, because Sam was sodden, frozen and angry having tramped all through Brooklyn for the past four hours. And that was just today.

He wanted to be home, tucked under his blanket watching a Die Hard marathon, whilst working his way through the untouched box of salted caramels Pepper had given him for Christmas and the butterscotch popcorn he had found at the artisan markets. Of course, the popcorn was originally intended to be a Christmas gift for Clint, however, after one mouthwatering bite, Sam wasn’t prepared to share. 

The movie, the caramels, the popcorn, the thick navy afghan blanket: that was heaven. 

The now hip-deep snow, the wet pants, the wind-chilled nose, and ears: this was hell.

Of course, this whole mood was not helped by the fact that Steve fucking Rogers was gliding over the top of the snow like fucking Legolas. Sam wanted to stab him in the calf and abandon this ridiculous mission for the sanctuary of his room. 

The blame entirely rested on the shoulders of Iron Man himself and his stupid matchmaking mission, but more on that later. Needless to say, for reasons dear readers you will learn, Tony was firmly placed in second place on Sam’s Hit List. But first, he had to murder Bucky Barnes.

“Steeeeeeve,” Sam whined as his foot sank into a particularly thick puddle of slush, “I’m cold and I’m tired and I wanna go home. Bucky can fend for himself.” No response. “He survived on his own in Romania all those years on plums. He can survive a few days locked up during the blizzard and find his way home.”

Sam could feel Steve roll his eyes, his pace unwavering as he flitted over the snow as though he was not two hundred-something pounds of pure muscle. “Sam, Bucky left the Tower five days, twenty hours and seventeen minutes ago. He hasn’t made contact, he hasn’t been seen or heard from since he stormed out after the Nailed It challenge.”

Sam did not see the issue. Bucky was a grown-ass man with a fucking vibranium arm, decades of army training and looks good enough to earn him at least a dozen-box of sesame cookies from Nami, the sweet Japanese eighty-year-old pastry chef from their little bakery weekend haunt. He’d be fed. He’d be watered. He’d be ass-damned fine.

What he did find an issue with, however, was the fact they were now stopped outside the old, rundown brownstone they had first ventured to two days, six hours and thirty-two minutes ago.

“Um, Steve, I know you’re getting a little old but we’ve already been here.”

Steve stopped abruptly, turned on his heel and gifted Sam the most Steve-like Captain glare; his hands firmly placed on his hips, an eye cocked and his jaw set. “I am well aware that we have investigated this location, however, I have to follow my gut on this. I think Bucky’s been here this whole time.”

If Bucky was indeed in the little apartment at the top of the brownstone, then Sam was prepared to be charged and found guilty of first-degree murder. 

At least it was an excuse to escape the frigid air and the harsh, penetrating wind. Sam hated the snow, it was official. 

When this was all said and done, he was on the first flight to Hawaii and he was flying first class and charging it to Tony Stark’s account. He was going to stay in the penthouse suite of the flashiest hotel he could find and he was going to drink all the cocktails, eat all the shrimp and make the best use of the spa services. Thank you, Tony Stark.

The brownstone was clearly in need of some love. Slate grey wallpaper was slowly peeling from the aged walls. The old timber floorboards had seen a lot of traffic in its time; small chunks gouged out from furniture coming and going with residents, scratches from high heels and trolleys. The lingering scent of smoke, both legal and illegal, lingered in the air, mixing with the distinct odor of stale air and mould.

Now, Sam Wilson was not bougie, unlike his friend Tony Stark, but even he turned his nose up at the little brownstone in “less upmarket” end of Brooklyn. How Steve, with his super-soldier sense of smell, was not gagging was beyond him. 

Sam was a fit man, hell his career required he be in peak physical condition, however, his frozen limbs ached as they climbed the three flights of rickety stairs. As they ascended, the air grew heavier and the aroma only intensified. 

The thick air was like that in Louisiana swamps Sam had spent the majority of that summer in, traipsing through the thick thicket with Steve and Bucky. The humidity causes a density to the air, the kind that sticks to your skin and makes your skin crawl with sweat. 

Those idiots always managed to take him to the most horrific of places. Sam did not remember signing up for this shit when Steve had barged in on his little place in Washington all those years ago.

The faint aroma of cinnamon pervaded the air as they moved through the hallway to the familiar turquoise door. The bright shade of blue was homely and comforting; a beautiful juxtaposition against the dark, foreboding hue of peeling charcoal wallpaper. 

When they had first investigated the apartment two days prior, their knocking had gone unanswered. And truthfully, why would Bucky be at your apartment? Your history together was not exactly all peaches and cream.

But now, the soft knocking against cabinetry, pans shifting, soft voices and sudden crashing drew Sam’s attention and Steve immediately tensed into Captain-mode. His big, black steel-capped boot met the door and the wood splintered under the weight of his force. 

They charged into the apartment ready to attack when….

“What the actual fuck, Barnes?!”

************************

If there was something Anthony Stark had learned in the forty-something years he had lived on this Earth, it that he loved love. The Beatles had it right man, all you need is love.

Tony was, is and always will be, a romantic to his core. He loved Valentine’s Day, anniversaries, flowers just because. His heart leaped through flowery fields as he watched couples out for dinner, sharing spoonfuls of desert across the table, holding hands as they whispered to each other, the little discreet (and not too discreet) happenings under the table. The happy little twinkles in their eyes.

Tony loved romantic comedies, tragic romance, angsty romance. He loved romantic songs, romantic movies, romantic porn. 

He loved to lament the great debate of English romantic comedies versus American romantic comedies. 

Tony was a staunch English nut; he could recite Notting Hill word for word whilst intoxicated, deafened with earmuffs, blindfolded and dangling over a shark-filled tank. Love Actually had become the annual Stark Christmas movie. 

He particularly enjoyed rubbing it in Captain Apple Pie’s face (aka Steve Rogers, who was actually indifferent to the argument): English romantic comedies trumped American romantic comedies. Period.

But there was one thing Tony loved more than the romantic movies, music, one liners and flowers: match-making. Nobody could match-make with the prowess, the accuracy, and suave entertainment value of Tony Stark. 

Natasha and Bruce. Sam Wilson and the cute forensic accountant who had once tried to audit Thor. Janet the cleaner and Billy from marketing. 

Patty Stranger was a second rate Millionaire Matchmaker compared to Tony Stark.

However, there was one would-be couple that Tony had yet to defeat. And that was Bucky Barnes aka the Winter Soldier, the White Wolf and you, the young, sassy engineering junior. 

Everybody saw the chemistry (hidden under the storm of vitriol and hatred you spewed at each other) that you both had. They could see your future: puppies, marriage, babies, love. 

Your great romance (or the war preluding your great love) had started over a muffin. Well, a batch of muffins to be more precise.

Bruce Banner has a sweet tooth, and to ensure the green-machine stayed at bay during long, arduous meetings (and let’s be honest, anyone’s green monster would appear during these meetings) Tony had enforced a rule in which everyone must bring edible baked goods. 

Most of the Avengers took the rule in their stride. Sam had an insanely good recipe for blondies. Natasha brought macarons from the cute French patisserie on the seventh floor. Wanda and Vision would make peppermint slice or pineapple cake.

Bucky was an accomplished baker in his own right. After returning from Wakanda, he had felt a little lost and out of place in the tower. The sympathetic looks, the capricious glares, the fearful eye contact. They were all constant reminders of his past, the past he was so desperate to move on from. 

So, with the help of his best friend and brother in arms Steve, and a less than enthusiastic Sam, Bucky began to mend the fractured and abused fragments of his soul. He read. He went to therapy. He ran. He hit the gym hard. He reached out and bonded with his teammates. 

But, it was in baking that Bucky found a sense of peace. 

This newfound passion had first flamed when he had walked in on Clint watching Cupcake Wars. He was hooked; the competitiveness, the artistry, the precision, the various elements that could go wrong at the drop of a hat. 

From there on, Bucky devoured baking when and where we could. He binged watched seasons of The Great British Bake Off, Cake Boss, Ace of Cakes. 

And after spying Clint’s fire incident involving a shop-bought apple pie in the microwave, Bucky knew he could do better (and that you shouldn’t put metal in the microwave). So, after the entire kitchen had been replaced, he tried his hand at baking. Cookies, cakes, pancakes, danishes. Over time, his skills improved and the competitive nature in Bucky was reignited. 

His baking became legendary in the tower. Everyone looked forward to seeing what tasty treats Bucky would bring to the monthly planning meeting. 

Anyone who does not bring a baked good meeting Tony’s standards (which are extremely, exceptionally high, thank you very much), the guilty party would be punished accordingly. 

The punishment would vary in degree and action depending on Tony’s fluctuating mood. Deborah from forensic accounting had been forced to attend a Bikram yoga retreat with Bruce… in Tennessee. Clint had been forced to go to a Michelin Star restaurant in Milan and had to watch Tony devour an entire degustation menu by himself. He hadn’t even been allowed the breadsticks. 

Steve and Clint had both received lifetime bans from the kitchen after setting fire to the oven on two separate occasions each. 

Clearly, failure was not an option. Which was why you had volunteered to put both of them out of their misery and bake on their behalf. Of course, Tony was completely aware of their cheating ways, nothing escaped the great Iran Man in his own tower, but he was just grateful not to get food poisoning, like the last time Steve had made pancakes. Or tried to. 

Despite being the greatest security force the world had, communication was sometimes a little lax within the Avengers. So, there was little surprise in the fact that there was a double up on baked goods one fateful late-fall morning. 

However, you were surprised at the poorly timed message from Steve warning you of an incoming Bucky. Poorly timed in the fact you received the message just as Bucky stormed into the staff canteen. 

Up until that showdown in the middle of the canteen, your relationship with Bucky had revolved around mild sexual tension, longing gazes across the room, like in the car scene in Love Actually between Sarah and Karl, and of course, some timid flirtation. Everyone could see you wanted each other, just like in those romantic comedies Tony loved to watch, but you were both too afraid to step over that line. Both too hurt and broken from your own pasts. 

However, the sweet, beautiful almost-moments blew up as Bucky launched into a tirade about baking etiquette. 

“You knew I was baking Pumpkin Coffee Cake Muffins with Cinnamon Honey Butter, why would you also make muffins, Judas?”

You slowly stood up from your chair, removing yourself from the bowl of soup you really wanted to tip over his head and stepped into his space. “Firstly, I am not Judas, asshole. I am a female, in case you hadn’t noticed. At least give me the common courtesy of calling me the name of a female traitor. Or are you so old your memory fails you?” 

You could see Steve cringe from the corner of your eye and Darcy, whom you’d been having a nice, quiet lunch with, grinning like a Cheshire cat who’d gotten the cream and the mouse.

Bucky’s face was stern and pinched as he glared down at you. You were on a roll and he didn’t scare you. In fact, you’d had a gut full of men walking all over you, especially Niel from R&D who’d spent a good hour screaming at you that very morning after you’d accidentally knocked his coffee over. Onto a pile of soon-to-be discarded paper pile.

“How about Arsinoe? Britta Tott? Elizabeth Barton, no relation to Clint. Marie Antoinette? Surely even you know Marie Antoinette.” Bucky bristled, his brows furrowing. “And FYI, Sam said my muffins were a delight. You’re just jealous they preferred mine.”

Oh boy, your Honey Toasted Hazelnut Chocolate Chunk Cupcakes with Boozy Honey Buttercream Frosting were exceedingly exceptional. 

Bucky stepped closer, his huge presence overshadowing your personal space as he lowered his face closer to yours. “You thought you could win everyone over with a little booze in your muffins? Amateur.”

The row had been spectacular, the audience in the canteen had raved about the scene for weeks. Obscenities had flown across the room like spaghetti, hands flailing in the air with much flair. The name-calling had been creative (jack ass, Adriano Zumbo wannabe) and the insults had been pointed (“your macarons are drier than the Sahara”, “well Spongebob Squarepants has more flavour than your Victoria Sponge”). 

As Tony had watched on in horror, his idea for your dream wedding with Bucky had started to singe and go up in flames. He’d even considered getting back his deposit on the butterflies. 

But Tony Stark was no quitter. Despite metal man being the reason his beloved parents were dead, the wannabe goat herder deserved a fresh start. Everyone deserves love, even Mousilini, right?

No matter what it took, you and Bucky would be dancing to New Prosthetic Metal Arm by L.O.I.T.O.N. Multinational Corporation for your first dance at your wedding. Even if it was the last thing Tony Stark did. 

His first attempt at repairing the situation went down like a lead balloon. In hindsight, tampering with the elevator and trapping you both in there for three hours had been a little extreme.

His second bid, forced dance lessons and a “totally natural” pairing had resulted in a broken window and a traumatised dance instructor. 

Subsequent shots had epically failed, but Tony would not give up. Not when true love was on the line. 

Three weeks before Christmas, the second most romantic time of the year and prime engagement opportunity, Tony locked himself in his workshop and tried to come up with a cunning plan. 

Youtube. Movies. Songs. Hulu. Netflix. He tried it all and no bueno.

It was by pure chance that his grand scheme came into play. Devoid of energy and desperate for a snack, Tony left his workshop in search of food. In the common room, he found you cuddled on the couch with Nat, eating his popcorn, Bucky sat beside Steve and Sam on the other couch as you all watched Nailed It.

The longing glances across the room at each other fluffed Tony’s heart like a soft, duck feather pillow. 

Taking a seat and helping himself to Steve’s prized bowl of pistachios, Tony became engrossed with the show playing before him. 

The failure. The hysterics. The judges. The gun shooting money at the winner.

And so, The Avengers Nailed It Competition was born. Of course, for legal reasons (blah blah), Tony had to alter some of the rules. 

Coincidentally, the bakes would be attempted by teams of bakers, paired by Tony himself, and judged by Tony, Clint, and Steve because neither were allowed near the kitchen.

You were not entirely surprised that Tony had paired you with Bucky, and secretly, you had hoped it would help heal some of the wounds you were both guilty of causing. 

You were also not surprised by the fact your competition were all couples brought together by Tony Stark. The matchmaker was trying to strike again. 

God help everyone in that room. 

***********************

D-Day. Or L-Day as Tony would call it, was upon the competing teams. 

You could not ignore the trepidation bubbling through your veins, the pitter-patter of butterfly wings in your stomach as you stepped into the former gym and now makeshift competition area. Bleachers were filled with an overly-enthusiastic audience; Stark employees and their families, all come to watch what should be a friendly competition, but in actual fact, it would probably turn into a bloodbath. 

Tony had gone all out, of course. A fresh, twelve-foot Christmas tree stood in all its glory, the centre-piece to a Christmas wonderland. Gigantic gold and red baubles adorned the thick, lush-green branches; colourful twinkly lights danced through the perfect dark emerald sprigs. 

Fake snow littered the hardwood floor. Tony had, of course, wanted real snow, but legal had vetoed and intervened when he kicked up a stink. The usual plain white walls were gone and replaced with real wood logs to mimic a cabin. Fairy lights twinkled on the ceiling above your head as you moved further into the room. 

It was breathtaking. A literal winter wonderland.

Three baking stations were positioned in a line, complete with state of the art ovens, Christmas-coloured Kitchen Aids, blast chillers. The best tools for baking you could have asked for.

Located in front of the baking stations was a long table, Tony sitting in between Steve and Clint. All three were wearing Santa hats and bespoke suits and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Tony’s extraness.

Tony smirked as he spied you nervously approaching your bench where Bucky was already stationed and getting his head into the game. You’d dressed as directed in the competition invitation, which was actually not an invitation and more of a directive and list of demands. Whilst, your choice of ugly sweater was not particularly ugly, the tyrannosaurus rex wearing a Santa hat was cute, your red glittery high-tops earned you a thumbs up from Tony. 

At station one stood Sam and Heidi from accounting who had been dating for four years and living together for two. You loved them as a couple, they both had very calming energies and worked so organically as a team. 

Janet and Billy had been seeing each other following a particularly raucous Friday night’s drinks involving a heated game of Cards Against Humanity. Unlike Sam and Heidi, Janet and Billy do not work well together. They bicker, snipe and passive-aggressively work around each other. 

And then there stood Bucky, pedantically re-organizing the measuring cups and spoons at your station. Your heart sank as his scowl met yours. This was going to be a long day. But goddamn, did he look good in his Christmas llama jumper and sinfully tight wine-coloured jeans and gold sparkly Doc Martins. 

“Hey Bucky,” you said timidly, hoping not to poke the bear, “I love your jumper.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled briefly and you swore he almost smiled, but then Tony Stark butted his big, stupid head in. “Hey kids, you ready for today? You’ll be great, I swear. Just you know, no throwing knives or name-calling. And please don’t burn down the building. Happy baking,” he called as he retreated to the judges’ table.

Your hands shook nervously as you took in the large crowd on the bleachers, Sam playfully shooting you daggers and, Janet and Billy were already arguing. 

“Don’t get nervous on me now, peaches,” Bucky drawled as he passed you the candy cane striped apron. “Can’t have you letting the team down because you got stage fright.”

Your blood boiled. “Excuse me?”

“And speaking of teamwork,” Bucky continued, barrelling through like a verbal freight train, “I think I should delegate jobs for this. I’m a natural leader, I give clear and concise directions…”

You slammed the apron onto the marble countertop. “Hang on a second, who died and put you in charge? This is supposed to be a team dynamic. There is no I in team.”

Bucky bristled and stepped closer to you, the distinct scent of smokey woods, roasting chestnuts and vanilla filled your senses. He smelt like goddamn Christmas. And his perfectly coiffed locks were dreamy, the slight notes of cedarwood and bergamot lingering from his shower. He smelt so tasty and all you wanted to do was run your fingers through his very soft-looking locks.

No, you could not allow yourself to be distracted by his beauty. His cut-glass cheekbones, his perfectly pink, pouty lips, the strong line in his nose…

No. Stop. You wouldn’t oblige his dramatic railroading this entire competition with his stubborn, pigheaded, know-it-all, type A personality. You had to stand your ground. 

“No, Bucky. The only way this is going to work is if you and I work together. Nobody is better than the other.” 

Your hands gently gripped his ridiculously soft green jumper and you found your intent wavering as you lost yourself in the soft wool under your hands and the heady scent of his aftershave. 

Concentrate woman. “I want to win this as much as you do, but we have to work as a team if we want to win. Okay? I don’t want to be beaten by Bill and Janet. And Sam? He will never let you live this down if he beats us.”

Your speech was a total act… you were terribly nervous and you wanted to prove to Bucky that you could do this together.

Steely grey eyes held your gaze as his brow relaxed, your breaths falling into synch with one another, stepping closer to each other as his hands came to rest on your forearms. Your eyes dropped to his lips briefly before he pinned your gaze with his again, his head slowly descending...

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to The Avengers Nailed It.”

If you could have stabbed Tony Stark with the bread knife you would have. Bucky’s gaze became fixed and cold as he stepped away. 

Game time.

As Tony launched into a well-rehearsed, carefully written opening monologue full of Christmas puns, baking quips, a brief history on the spirit of Christmas, you tried to centre your thoughts. The image of those perfect rosy lips moving towards yours burned on your memory as you tried to distract yourself with your apron. 

“And so, without further ado,” Tony pronounced theatrically as he waltzed around before the audience, “Wes! Oh, Wes!” 

The audience laughed and you found yourself chuckling as poor Peter Parker appeared from the big makeshift cabin doors, wheeling out a trolley with a large silver cloche covering the bake. 

The nerves kicked in, serving a sharp jolt down the spine. The cloche was massive and your mind raced with the endless possibilities of ridiculous cakes that could be lying under the oversized cloche. The combination of your knowledge of Nailed It and Tony’s over the top, outrageous, excessive nature made your blood run cold. 

A warm hand engulfed yours, instantly calming the humming anxiety in the pit of your stomach. The warm, slate grey eyes fixed on yours, pouty pink lips offering you a reassuring smile before you both turned to watch the cloche ascend into the cloud of smoke and falling glitter.

Fuck.

On the trolley sat an army of snowmen dressed as Avengers and agents, and a large, intricate, gingerbread Avengers Tower. 

Tony continued to outline the competition rules, no doubt adding rude quips and threatening to sue anyone who turned his gym into a warzone, but you could not hear him. 

Your heart sank as you took in the elaborate and minute details of the little costumes made of fondant and what looked to be modelling chocolate; Thor snowman, Captain American complete with fondant shield, Iron Man snowman, a Fury snowman with a little eyepatch. 

However, it was the gingerbread Tower that really sent your panic skyrocketing and the hand over yours tightened its grip. Blood rushed through your veins at lightning speed and the white night pooled in your ears as you took in the beastly bake before you. Biscuit making was not your strong suit, in fact, you’d had a particularly bad experience making a gingerbread house with an ex-boyfriend that had resulted in a smashed vase and spending Christmas Eve on the couch. 

Each floor of the tower was lit with individual Jelly Belly beans, the piping a labyrinthine path leading up the glittery A at the crown of the Tower. 

“Hey, sugar, eyes on me.” You hadn’t even registered your body being turned away from the nightmare bake until warm hands cupped your cheeks and you found yourself staring into tin pools. “Now is not the time to be melting down like the icebergs. So, take a deep breath and we are going to come up with a plan.”

The breath was deep and calming, the pools of grey holding your gaze bearing down into, the homey scent encompassing your senses. 

“Good. We are going to look at the recipe and we are going to delegate jobs.”

You nodded silently as you and Bucky turned to the iPad nestled in Dum-E’s arm. 

“Okay. Well, the good news is,” Bucky said as his eyes rapidly glanced down the recipe, “they are going to give us the gingerbread. We just have to make the royal icing and decorate that monstrosity.” You chuckled, instantly feeling the effects of Bucky’s calm, in-control aura. “We just need to make the cake pops for the army of narcissism and decorate those.”

Bucky watched on as you giggled, his heart melting at the small lines growing as you smiled. God, he just wanted to whisk you out of that room and take you out for coffee. And maybe cake, yes, definitely cake. Or ice-cream. Or was it too cold for ice-cream for you? 

No, Barnes, concentrate. 

“Bucky, I’m not really confident with the gingerbread Tower. I don’t think I’m even tall enough to decorate the top,” you confessed softly, your hands twisting nervously. “I have butterfingers and I will just end up breaking the biscuit and I….”

“Hey, take a breath.” Surprisingly soft hands cupped your cheek as you forced yourself to take another deep breath. “I will handle the Tower of ego. You have better skills at detailed decorating than me. We got this partner.”

You and Bucky agreed to present two different flavoured cake pops to the judges - dark chocolate and orange, and white chocolate with freeze-dried raspberry to balance out the sweetness. And for an additional surprise, Bucky would add orange liquor to his royal icing for the gingerbread Tower.

You worked in companionable silence; Bucky starting to plan out his build and you set about making the cake pops. 

Whilst your cake was in baking you helped Bucky start to put the Tower together. As you held two of the walls in place, allowing the icing to set, Bucky noticed your hands shaking a little.

At the table beside you, Janet and Billy were arguing loudly over the structural integrity of their second floor, which was currently leaning like the Tower of Pisa. 

“The icing is too runny, Billy.”

“It’s not the icing, Janet, you aren’t pressing hard enough. Use your muscles like Thor.”

Bucky scoffed beside you as he carefully pressed the last gingerbread wall, completing the first floor of ten. “How about I make you a promise. If neither of those idiots at the next table stabs the other, I will offer you the first blow.”

You snorted lightly, trying to hold back the giggles. 

“I’m not even joking,” Bucky said, fighting the urge to kiss your pouty lips, “I know a good lawyer, there’s definitely defensible motive. We’re only forty minutes into a five-hour bake, I will happily give you a defence.”

Hearing your laugh and seeing the fine lines expanding on your face as you laughed at his joke, at a joke said by Bucky Barnes, was the most gratifying things he had ever felt. He could wake up hearing you laugh every day and he would be the happiest man alive. 

As you both slowly worked your way through the second and third floors, Bucky continued to tease you, your anxiety washing away. 

Bucky was partway through explaining his grand plan to break you out of prison, where you were facing life in prison for the murder of Billy and Janet when the buzzer chimed on your oven.

Your cake done and cooling in the blast chiller, you returned to help Bucky with the fourth and fifth floors. A tingle ran up your spine every time your hands would brush as he carefully piped the icing along the seams of the biscuit you were holding in place. 

If you hadn’t been so caught up in the moment, blushing and sharing glances across the Tower as you worked shoulder to shoulder, you would have spied Tony practically high-fiving himself. He gleamed as he watched you both make goo-goo eyes over the gingerbread, like in a movie. Tony could practically see your wedding now. 

You were a little disappointed when your cake was due to come out of the blast chiller, the tower mostly constructed. 

You mould your cake pops before placing them back into the blast chiller and focusing on melting your chocolate to cover the cake with. 

You and Bucky find a reciprocal rhythm as you spend the next few hours meticulously decorating the army of snow-Avengers and gingerbread tower. Your conversation is effortless and easy-going as if you had never thrown verbal daggers at each other over the past months. 

As you were helping Bucky with the final touches on the gingerbread Tower, your face ached from smiling and laughing for so long. You can’t remember the last time you had had this much fun with anyone, let alone your arch-nemesis Bucky Barnes. 

“You’re done!” Tony bellowed through his Swarovski-crystal megaphone. Where had he got that from?

You could not concentrate as each team presented and the judges tasted the bakes. Your mind whirled at the memories of the past few hours, the heady scent of Bucky, the feel of his hands brushing against yours. 

You were brought back to reality as Bucky wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the judges tasted your bake. You could feel Janet and Billy shooting daggers at you and Bucky and for the first time, you noticed the literal disaster in the station beside yours. Their oven slightly burnt out, flour covering every possible surface. 

As you turned back to face the judges they were huddled into each other, whispering. 

“Well done, peaches,” Bucky hummed as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. You turned to look at him, stormy grey eyes fixed on yours immediately and your lips drew closer, your hands coming to pull on his neck. His eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes as you moved closer to each other, your lips a hairs-breath from each other. “I wanna kiss you so bad, doll.”

“Then fucking kiss me already,” you answered with a smirk before pulling him into a searing kiss, your bodies pressed into each other. 

His lips were soft and supple against yours, a little demanding but so giving as you both fought to control the kiss. His tongue was sweet and a little salty from the pretzels he had been sneaking from your bowl as you had both decorated. His fingers were firm as they tugged slightly on your hair as he couldn’t decide whether to grip your hair or hold your waist.

You were so close to wrapping your legs around his waist and demanding you both leave the gym when…

“If team Winter Is Coming could cease making out, we will announce the winner!”

You giggled as you pulled back from Bucky before he gently pressed his lips back against yours, and pulling you tightly against his well-defined chest, and buried his face in your hair.

“No matter what,” he whispered, his arms tight around your waist, “this was the best day of my life.”

You smiled warmly as Tony cleared his throat into his blinged-out megaphone. 

“Wes!” Tony called out dramatically and the audience chuckled. 

Bucky held you close, Sam gifting you both a thumbs-up as Peter Parker appeared from behind the makeshift cabin doors wearing a Santa costume and carrying the Tony Stark shaped trophy.

The crowd hushed as Tony took the trophy and took a dramatic pause. 

“And the winner, of the first Avengers: Nailed It is…” another dramatic pause, “is…” Bucky grumbled beside you, “team…” Tony smirked, “Winter is Coming.”

It took a moment for you to realise that you were on the winning team and you watched on in shock as Clint jumped over the judges’ table and started shooting money in your direction from the money gun. 

In fact, it didn’t sink in until Bucky had you wrapped in his arms and was kissing you. 

Glitter, streamers, and balloons dropped from the ceiling as the crowd cheered, but you were deaf and blind to it all, completely wrapped up in the mind-blowing, hallelujah kiss. 

“We won?” You asked, just for confirmation, of course, you couldn’t pinch yourself in a room this full of people.

Bucky chuckled, “We won. And I…”

“Excuse me.” You turned around to see Christine Everheart, Tony Stark’s number one not fan and reporter for Vanity Fair appear before you both with her phone held out. “Do you care to comment on the status of your rehabilitation from the Winter Soldier?”

Your heart dropped as you felt Bucky freeze and his demeanour instantly changed. He quickly removed his arms from around you and pushed you behind him. As you came into contact with a soft body and you turned to see Steve standing behind you defensively, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

Tony stepped forward and in a calm manner (for Tony that is) began, “Ms. Everheart, I don’t believe this is…” 

“The latest reports given by the Justice Department state that your rehabilitation has been a success, however, images leaked of your last mission to Uganda proves otherwise.”

The blonde woman shoved a pile of photos she pulled from her bag at Bucky and over his shoulder, you could just make out the grainy image of Bucky destroying some kind of creature with his vibranium hand. 

You let out a small gasp and immediately regretted it seeing Bucky’s shoulders slump.

“You, Mr. Barnes, will always be The Winter Soldier.” Everheart’s words sliced through you like a knife. 

“Ms. Everheart, this is not the time nor the place,” Tony snarled as agents began to approach your group. “This is a charity event and I will not tolerate your fear-mongering. Please leave and I will happily send your publication a written statement, but please also expect a letter of complaint.”

As the blonde reporter began to argue Bucky pushed past you.

“Bucky,” you begged taking his hand, “please, wait.”

“Get away from me,” he snarled, pushing your hand away as though your skin was on fire, “stay the hell away from me.”

You watched on helplessly as he stormed from the gym, Steve quickly and snarkily going to defend his friend to the smirking reporter.

You were numb on the journey back to your apartment. Concerned phone calls, text messages and emails all went unanswered as you slipped back into yourself. 

How could you have been so stupid to get swept up in the moment and allowed Bucky in so quickly? How could you have forgotten the pain you endured when one morning you had woken up in Luke’s arms and the next he was gone? When would you learn that your fortress had to be impenetrable?

**********************

Arctic-temperature water lapped at the rocks as Bucky watched over the East River looking for an answer. Of course, he knew that he would never find the answer he was looking for, but the escape from the overwhelming and suffocating Tower was nice. 

That was until Everheart’s words came back like a bad tune on the radio. Bucky knew he shouldn’t have run out as he had. He shouldn’t have spat at you with daggers and venom. 

A wave of self-hatred and rage ebbed and flowed through Bucky as he contemplated the day, looking over the dark, freezing waters and the city. 

You were light, deserving to shine brightly, not be dampened down by his darkness.

He heard her footsteps before she spoke. “There’s a storm coming,” the dark sultry voice approached stealthily, “and I’m not talking about the one in your heart.” Bucky ignored her, instead, taking a sip of his coffee and trying to warm his covered hands with the tepid cup. “They say it’s going to be the storm of the century so you might want to plan your next move quickly or we will be scraping your frozen body off of this ledge.”

“What do you want, Natasha?” Bucky sounded tired, defeated. He hadn’t intended to sound that way, he’d wanted to come across as more cold. 

“She loves you.” Bucky scoffed. “But she’s a broken little bird who hasn’t realised she needs help healing her wings. It’s not my place to tell her story, Buck, but you two need each other. You can help mend the cracks you have and finally find peace. You need to let her in though.”

“I’m a monster…”

“That is bullshit and you know it.”

“They will only ever see me as a monster.”

“Bucky, no one, except that stupid blonde bitch thinks you’re a monster. People see the good you do and they can see past the soldier. You need to forgive yourself.”

Bucky clenched his jaw as the frozen wind swept along his face. “Where is she?”

**********

“Meteorologists are calling it the snowstorm of the century. NYPD and the mayor are asking residents to stay inside with food, water, and supplies. The storm could last as long as three days and residents should expect widespread power outages.”

The lights in your apartment flickered ominously as you watched the news reporter standing in front of the green screen, his outfit complete with spotty umbrella, rain hat, and yellow raincoat. 

Heavy snow pelted against your windows and your heater groaned as it struggled in its old age. You had begged your apartment blocks’ superintendent to look at the heater last month when old Mrs. Robinson had come down with her fifth chest infection this year. But seedy, tight-pocket Patrick O’Grady would have none of it, insisting that the heater was fine. It wasn’t. 

You moved to draw the curtains, shutting out the insane snowstorm that was hitting New York State. You were grateful for the care package of water and tinned food Tony had sent over despite your silent-act. 

After closing the curtains in the living space and turning off the TV, you moved back into the bedroom to stoke the fire. You had to conserve what little wood you had left, but your traditional wood fireplace did a good job of heating your bedroom.

An incessant knocking at your door drew you from the warmth of your bedroom, the old, ratty knitted blanket pulled tight around your body as you moved to the turquoise door. Peeking through the peephole you could just make out the top of Bucky’s head as he leaned against the door. 

You quickly opened the door to find him sopping wet and near frozen. 

“What the hell Bucky? Get inside. Come on.” You pulled him inside and quickly closed and locked the door behind him. “Where the hell have you been?” Despite the serum, Bucky shivered violently as you pulled him into the bedroom. “We need to get you into something warm and dry. Take your clothes off,” you demanded, bringing him to a stop in front of the fireplace.

“Damn, you are bossy,” Bucky purred, his lips quivering. “If you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask nicely.”

“Barnes, just take your damn clothes off.”

Bucky watched as you turned your back to him and started to rifle through some drawers in your wardrobe. 

As you pulled out some old workout clothes you had borrowed from the Tower and you turned around, Bucky had stripped down to his tight underwear. Holy shit. He was ripped. His body was lean and sculpted with fine muscle. A small dusting of hair trailed from his navel to his…

“My eyes are up here.”

You burned with embarrassment. “Fuck you, Barnes. Get dressed and I will get you something hot to eat before the power goes out.”

You busied yourself in the kitchen, trying to shake the memory of the lithe muscles carved in his thighs, wrapped around your hips as he…

No. You would not fall into this trap. He had shunned you and shamed you in front of his friends and half of the Tower’s employees and families. 

Armed with hot tomato soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, and hot cocoa on a tray, you made your way into the bedroom. You nearly dropped the tray as you stepped over the threshold and found Bucky staring at the photos on the wall, dressed in his clothes.

“You’re married?”

You could feel torrid grey eyes studying you closely though you refused to look. You cleared your throat, fighting back the tears as you placed the heavy tray onto the bed. “You need to eat something Buck.”

You sat in silence on the bed, Bucky eating like a famished man, wrapped under blankets as he tried to warm up. Once he was done, you took the dishes back into the kitchen and washed up. 

You took stock of the whirlwind of emotions storming through your gut like a hurricane. You had been numb for so long, having grieved and moved on, but so afraid to open up and let another in. And there in your bedroom was the man whom you’d pined for, whom you’d been at war with and celebrated with today… 

“Doll?”

You couldn’t bear to look at him. “I was married. He died three years ago in the line of duty.” You clung onto the kitchen bench for dear life as adrenalin coursed through your veins. “Tom was NYPD. We were married for five years. Nobody at work knows except for Natasha and Tony.”

“Doll, I am so sorry…”

“Please don’t apologise, Buck. I mourned and let go of him a long time ago. I just…” You took a breath. “I let you in, despite the fighting and you just…”

His arms were wrapped tightly around you before you could finish. His scent was calming, still strong from his morning shower. His skin had warmed considerably since he had arrived like a drowned cat at your turquoise door.

“I’m so sorry for blocking you out, doll.” You could feel his nose brush along your cheek as you buried deep into his chest. “I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping you out. I thought I was protecting you by pushing you away.”

Bucky rocked you gently in his arms, his cool tears caressing the skin of your cheek as you lost yourself in his scent and touch. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you that day in the canteen. I was so jealous that your muffins were better than mine,” he hummed placing his hand against your cheek and you chuckled. “I wish we could relive today, I would do things very differently.”

You hushed him gently, placing your lips against his. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from all the shitty things, it’s that you can’t have regrets. You can only apologise, learn from it and move on. I want to try again with you.”

“I want to try with you.” 

His smile was warm and inviting and you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing your lips to his. “Come on, it’s late and colder than Janet and Billy’s bedroom tonight. Let’s just go to bed, snuggle and we can talk more about this in the morning.”

For the first time in months, Bucky slept peacefully, the nightmares kept at bay as you lay wrapped in each others’ arms.

**************

When you awoke the next morning, the ashen sky was flickering with falling snow. The usual city-song of traffic, chatter, and shouts was silent. 

New York State was facing the worst snowstorm in history. 

You stretched your back, pressing into something firm and pointed. Soft lips pressed against your neck and satisfied moan hummed in your ear as a thick arm pulled you closer.

“Good morning.” His gruff, dry voice was the hottest thing you had ever heard. 

You turned around to see a groggy Bucky Barnes watching you through hooded eyes, his smile lazy and warm. “Good morning, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Sergeant, hey?” His gruff voice was deliciously rough and warmed your smile with his playfulness. “I don’t see no soldier in this bed.”

“Well then, Buuuucky, would you like me to bring you breakfast in bed?”

Ever the gentleman, Bucky helped you prepare fruit and waffles for breakfast. Whilst the electricity was still running, outside the streets were blanketed with thick snow and barren. 

Breakfast made, you and Bucky stood side by side in the kitchen as you ate, checking the news on your tablet. The snowfall had been worse than predicted, much of the city already plunged into darkness.

It was clear that Bucky would not be returning to the Tower anytime soon. No that you didn’t minded, of course. This was the perfect opportunity for you both to bury the hatchet and get to know each other. 

After the dishes had been washed and you had taken separate showers, Bucky put fresh wood onto the fireplace as you set up Uno on the bed.

You teased each other relentlessly, reverting to name-calling and heckling to throw each other off your games. You could not remember a time you had felt so comfortable with another, had laughed this much. 

You found yourself longing to look at his sweet concentrated scowl as he pondered his cards. The frustratingly tempting way he would drag his tongue over his lips. It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate.

You had played your second last card when you looked up to see Bucky staring at you, his steel eyes dancing in the lights as he fixated his gaze on your lips. 

Damn it. 

You launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your lips to his fiercely, all but pushing him back onto the bed. Bucky chuckled against your lips as he challenged your kiss. 

You both fought to take control and you soon find yourself pinned underneath the supersoldier. His hands danced over your skin, hair, and body as his tongue explored yours. 

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

“Bucky, there’s a blizzard outside and I’m trapped, here, with you. There’s little else to do but make up for lost time.” 

You had clearly said the right thing because Bucky is pushing all the cards off the bed and hauling you onto his lap as he rests his back against your headboard. 

You can’t remember the last time you had made-out with a person. Actually and truly lost yourselves in soft, pliant kisses and promising, husky moans. Bucky’s hands were tentative in their exploration, soon taking great delight in caressing the right spots to draw out soft mewls from your lips. 

And talk? Oh boy. Bucky could not stop praising you, his sweet, truthful words caressing your skin like a paintbrush. 

His muscles were heaven in your grip, strong and yet tender. His vibranium hand was cool and unsure, but with a lot of reassuring and literal hand-holding, the cool metal was becoming a complete distraction. 

The next few days were a blissful blur of stolen kisses, lustful glances across the candlelit table and experimental touches. You held each other tight as you, both waiting for the other to take the next step. 

That next step came on day three. You had just finished your morning bath when the power finally gave out. 

“Shit,” you groaned. Dressed in only a towel and dripping water on the floor, you blindly ventured out of the bathroom because, despite your constant requests (Patrick O’Grady was lazy and cheap it) you bathroom still lacked a window, and into the bedroom. “Are you ok…”

Strong arms caught you before you could slip and crack your head on the old hardwood floors. 

“Are you okay?” 

You couldn’t breathe, pressed firmly against Bucky’s ripped, naked chest. “The power…”

“I know,” Bucky chuckled as his hands caressed your damp, naked shoulder, “we were lucky it lasted this long in this ancient building.”

Your eyes were locked in a heated battle, your skin alight with his touch.“If your eyes weren’t so distracting and you weren’t in your really tight underwear, that really doesn’t hide much, by the way, I would kick you out for insulting my place.”

“I love your apartment. I love…” Your breath hitched as your hands came to rest on his cheeks. “I love you, doll. I have for the longest time.”

“I love you, Bucky.”

Your lips met, heated and desperate as your hands fought to take grip of his hair, stretching up on your toes. With poetic flair, your towel dropped to the floor, exposing your naked body to Bucky.

Fuck it. Months and months of dancing around each other, throwing insults. Locked in this apartment for days toeing over the line. You were done waiting. 

“You are so damn beautiful,” he groaned grasping onto your thighs and pulling you up. You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him hungrily as he marched you over to the bed. “Let me take care of you.” 

You nodded desperately as he gently placed you onto the bed before shucking off his underwear. Crawling over to you with the stealth and grace of a leopard, months of sexual tension and longing coming to a head as his lips caressed your neck. 

“Fuck, Bucky,” your voice was embarrassingly wanton and needy, “I want to take this slow and enjoy this, but I gotta be honest, I don’t think I can be patient.”

“Sugar, are you telling me you are desperate for me?” God his voice was thick like caramel with a tongue to match. “Can’t wait for it?”

He gasped in surprise as you pushed him onto his back and straddled his cock. “I’ve waited nine long months and I am done being patient. We can do slow next.”

Bucky chuckled as he sat up, wrapping your legs firmly around his waist. “Next time?”

“So many more times,” you grinned teasingly as your hands grasped his cock and you drank in the husky moan escaping his lips. “What else have we got to do in this snowstorm?” You kissed him hungrily, running your hand over his thick, rockhard cock. “Please Bucky.”

Bucky had to force himself not to come there and then, all over your marvellous hand. “The next time I get my hands on you I’m going to take my damn time, but for now, my sugar wants it hard and fast. Right?” 

You nodded desperately. 

Bucky took his cock in his hand, brushing fingers along yours as he pressed his tip to your damp and inviting entrance. His cock dragged along your walls, painstakingly slow as he relished in the warmth. You wailed as he bottomed out, his tongue seeking out yours as he stilled his hips.

“You feel like home,” Bucky growled as his vibranium hand grasped your hip and his flesh hand curled tightly against your scalp. “You smell like fresh daisies and lemonade.”

“That would be the bubble bath,” you teased pulling up on your knees and softly dragging your walls down his cock. “Bucky, I need you to fuck me or I’m going to forced to take matters into my own hands.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Bucky crooned.

His cock buried deep inside you, you wrestled to gain control, pillows flying across the room until you were pinned beneath him, the room filled with the sound of laughter. The giggles slowly faded as your eyes locked, a silent conversation held between pupils. 

Bucky testily moved his hips, languidly dragging his cock along your walls, a shaky mewl escaping your lips. He smiled brightly before pushing and pulling back harder. 

He set a brutal pace, caging you against the bed with his ripped arms and firm hands, fucking into you with abandon as he kissed you stupid. 

Since Tom’s death, you’d forgotten what it was like to feel this much love and passion in a single moment. You hadn’t dated, hadn’t slept around. Sex was too precious and too intimate to throw away on a dime, despite how good the ass was, and by God, Bucky was proving your decision right. You could wait a lifetime just to be with him.

“I’m going to come,” you gasped against his lips as you felt the coil tighten, your toes curling into the sheets as you urged him on.

“That’s it sugar, I want to feel you come on my cock.”

The heat, the deafening sounds of grunts, moans and skin slapping, the soul-sucking kisses and steely grey eyes broke four years of walls and barriers. 

You came with a resounding cry, your walls clenching around his thick girth and your hands grasped onto his thick, dark locks as you shook with your high. 

Bucky praised you as you flew through your high, telling you how beautiful you are, how amazing you feel. Tears spiked as you watched on, thunderous adrenalin coursing through your veins as you peaked and fell to the ground in an earth-shattering crash. 

Bucky chased his orgasm vigorously, his teeth claiming and marking you as he fucked into you harder than. He didn’t have to wait long, painting your walls violently as he groaned against your lips. 

A part of you, the dark, deep-seated, undeserving little girl in your soul, expected Bucky to get out of bed, dress and leave you in the cold bed to wallow in self-pity. However, he didn’t. Instead, he held you close, his lips insistent in keeping your mind from wandering into the self-hating dark. 

“I love you,” he whispered as you teetered on the edge of sleep. 

“I love you, Bucky.” 

As you both slept soundly, you did not hear the soft, polite knocking on the turquoise door.

****************

As the fifth day of the snowstorm dawned, the electricity had been revived and your body was aching in the most delicious way. You and Bucky had spent day three through most of day five christening what surface you could think of. Despite how creative some of those surfaces had been, the damage to the wall tiles in your bathroom a testament to Bucky’s stubborn prowess. You had experimented and explored each other in ways you had never experienced. 

You were like teenagers; all adrenalin and desperate to experience. You’d barely been able to keep your hands off of each other. Which was why the pancake mix sat forgotten on the kitchen bench as you knelt before Bucky, his cock stuffed deep in your mouth as you fingered yourself. 

You loved Bucky’s body. Lean muscles, faint smattering of hair, neatly trimmed pubic hair and his thick, heavy cock. The scent was heady and his length sat heavy on your tongue as he slowly fucked your mouth. 

You chuckled as his ass slapped against the countertop. Bucky growled at the vibration and his arm reached out to grasp the cabinetry behind his head, knocking into the hanging pot. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, sugar,” he crooned running his thumb along your lips as you looked up at him hungrily. “Oh god, that’s it, honey.”

You hummed, edging the head of his cock further into your throat, moaning as your finger brushed against your g-spot. Bucky saw stars, coming down your throat as his hand grasped at the pot sending it flying across the room and cracking the wall in your hallway. 

The sudden crash from the turquoise door came quickly, taking you both by surprise and you pulled Bucky’s cock out of your mouth, swallowing quickly. You looked up to see Bucky suddenly with a knife in his hand flinging towards the assailants and Steve and Sam standing in the hallway with their guns drawn. 

“What the actual fuck, Barnes?” Sam screamed, taking the kitchen knife from your wall and hurling it at Bucky who grabbed the handle with his vibranium hand. “We’ve been dragging our asses around half of New York in the goddamn snow for two goddamn days and you’ve been shacked up here the whole time?”

Steve did not know where to look as you cautiously stood up, making sure to pull Bucky’s t-shirt over your bare lower half. “We will leave you both to it,” he said as red as a beetroot. “Sorry about the door. We will send someone over right away.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Sam yelled as Steve dragged him out of your apartment, screaming bloody murder as they descended the stairs. “Two days you dragged my ass around New York...”

“Probably shouldn’t have turned my phone off,” Bucky mused before pulling you into his body and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Now, I guess I should repay the favour, sugar. Let’s get back into bed before the carpenter comes.”

Picking you up over his shoulder he dragged you into your bedroom, giggling like a pair of fools.

*************

Following the worst (best) snowstorm in history, New York slowly returned to its former glory. Roads were cleared and buildings repaired. Everything returned to normal, except for one small thing. 

Bucky and you. Tony Stark’s greatest matchmaking accomplishment in all of history, or so he would go on to say. 

Tony did not like to gloat, oh no, he was a modest man. He would not dare boast about his accomplishment of finally fixing the warred relationship you had once had. Finally bringing together Karl and Sarah from Love Actually. Charles and Carrie from Four Weddings and a Funeral. Nick and Rachel from Crazy Rich Asians. 

So, you were not entirely surprised by the new additions to the meeting room as you and Bucky walked in, hand in hand, gooey-eyed and a little hot under the collar from a particularly steamy make-out session in the elevator. 

As Bucky placed the four-tiered Chai Tea Layer Cake in front of Sam, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek furiously. Sam hadn’t spoken to either of you in four days. 

“It’s your favourite and no one else is allowed to touch it,” you whispered before Bucky pulled you over to your seats. You sat as close as possible, your hands instantly searching each other out. 

Tony stood at the head of the table dramatically, his eyes focused and his smirk gleaming. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new mission. It will be perilous, it will be dangerous, and there will be tears.”

He paused for dramatic effect and you could feel Bucky roll his eyes from beside you.

“The Avengers next mission will be…” 

You jumped as balloons, streamers, and glitter fell from the ceiling. How the hell had he hidden that up there?

“Hey man, my cake!” Sam cried hurling himself over the cake. 

“The wedding of Team Winter is Coming.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love to hear your thoughts. Pretty please with cherries on top.


End file.
